


truth or dare

by ordanary



Series: Against London [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst to come, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, dans a bassist like me uwu, it gets resolved though dw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 09:30:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15927638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordanary/pseuds/ordanary
Summary: Dan’s been harbouring feelings for Phil, the guitarist of his band, for years. It’s only when they play a game of Truth or Dare during an interview that those feelings become more of curse than a mere secret.





	truth or dare

**Author's Note:**

> Hey !! This work has three parts to it which I’m gonna post separately to the same series, and those will come every other day after this one if all goes well :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy !

If there were ever a drug that could make Dan feel as high as he felt when he was playing bass up on stage with the rest of his band, Against London, then he’d still yet to find it. 

He truly couldn’t imagine a world where their band didn’t exist, where thrashing around and sweating under the bright lights while hundreds of fans screamed their lyrics back at them wasn’t an option. He, much like any twenty seven year old in the music business, loved what he did more than anything else in the world. The studio, the tour bus, the stage– it was all home, and Dan couldn’t get enough of it. 

Every loud bass riff he played shot surges of adrenaline through his system, the deep and guttural sounds reverberating in his chest and settling right up against his heart. He needed the steady thrum of Chris’s drums behind him, the sweet as honey sound of Pj’s voice, and the magic of Phil’s guitar to his left or he feared his system might shut down completely. Music was his lifeline, and being able to create it only fed the ongoing stream of energy. 

As he danced around under the hot lights, left hand working his pick at a rapid pace with the end of the song nearing, Dan tuned his ears to listen for the high notes of Phil’s electric guitar from across the stage. 

He loved watching Phil play, loved watching the concentrated look on his face at he played their more difficult songs and the way he owned the entire stage with little to no effort at all. He may have only been the guitarist, but everyone knew Phil was the frontman of Against London. From the way he moved on stage to the way he spoke during interviews, it was clear to anyone and everyone that Phil had some sort of natural dominance when it came to showmanship. 

He owned the stage, which of course meant it was rather ironic when he’d force one of the other band members to open the door to the pizza man, or pick up his cellphone when the number was unknown. Dan often wished he could be like Phil in that sense; fearless when everyone cared and small when nobody was around to care anymore. But unfortunately for him, he was rather the opposite, barely speaking at all in interviews and sticking in his own little bubble during shows. He really only went wild when he was playing, but even then the cockiness didn’t extend to playfully bold banter with their audience. He was perfectly comfortable leaving that to Phil and Pj.

The song ended with an extravagant beating of Chris’s drums, Pj’s smooth vocals echoing with the help of some special effect from the mic that Dan didn’t quite understand. Instead of questioning it too much, though, he just walked forward a bit, knowing Phil and Pj were getting into their scheduled three minute chatter, and threw his used bass pick as far as he could into the cheering crowd, smiling brightly when some kid with pink hair and a rainbow coloured beanie caught it with much enthusiasm. 

“So hello, how are you, Ottawa?” Phil asked the crowd, using his usual loud performer voice, the one that made everyone, regardless of sexuality, swoon for the black haired guitarist– everyone including Dan, but he’d never admit that aloud. 

The crowd roared in response, which was usually a good sign. 

“So if you haven’t already heard, we’re Against London, and we’re here to play you lovely people some music,” he drawled, leaning into his mic as he stated the obvious. Of course they knew that, Against London were probably the only reason they were in this cramped venue right now. “Is that alright?” 

The entirety of the venue screamed and hollered, looking up at the band with their excited eyes. 

“Oh that’s good, because sometimes my friend Pj over here gets a little bit nervous and thinks no one will be as excited as he is,” he spoke skeptically, hitching his thumb in Pj’s direction and cupping his hand over his mouth as if to shield him from hearing. 

“Hey!” Pj exclaimed into his own mic, unimpressed. “Stop projecting your offstage insecurities onto me!” The crowd laughed as Dan and Chris shared an amused smile, chuckling to themselves about their bandmates’ silly antics. 

The two continued with their banter for a few minutes longer, managing to make the sea of sweating bodies before them laugh and ‘awe’ a few times before Phil announced the name of the next song they were about to play, Dan pulling another pick from his mic stand. 

—

Heading off stage each night was always a chore in itself, having to hand their instruments off to crew members and finally say goodbye to their current batch of fans for the evening, rarely getting the chance to meet them afterwards as they were always busy being a newer band and such. 

Dan always wanted to stay longer, have conversations with the people who looked up to him and his friends and get to know each of them as real human beings, but in reality that just wasn’t idealistic when there were at the very least four hundred people at each show. It sucked, but it was reality. Against London weren’t some super small indie pop punk band who had the leisure of making real connections with their fans anymore. Things were changing fast, and Dan would have to learn to adapt quickly if he wanted to keep up. 

“Can you pass me a water?” He asked Pj as they settled into their small lounge backstage for the next hour, towels slung around each of their necks as their hair dripped buckets of sweat due to being under the intense stage lights for nearly two hours. 

Pj nodded, tossing Dan a disposable water bottle before downing more than half of one in one go, himself. 

They all sat in relative silence for a few long minutes, still busy catching their breath and processing yet another wonderful night. Phil was the first of the four to move from one of the terribly uncomfortable plastic chairs they were sat at, muttering something about it being too hot before grabbing his blue t-shirt by the bottom and lifting it swiftly over his head, throwing it somewhere across the room and sitting back down. 

Dan couldn’t help but catch himself staring at the exposed pale flesh of Phil’s lean chest, his eyes lingering for longer than they probably should’ve. 

Okay, so maybe he found Phil to be wonderful even beyond his bold stage presence and witty interview responses. Maybe he liked Phil a lot when they were sleepily eating breakfast in the tour bus together and having dumb conversations about video games, too. 

It wasn’t like he wanted to date him or something– okay, so sometimes he did. Sometimes he really wanted to tear off Phil’s shirt and kiss up his neck and have the guitarist’s long fingers tangled in his hair. But that was okay, because it would never in a billion years happen, and Dan had made peace with that back when the band had first started and Pj had let him down easy for his own emotional safety. Pj was always looking out for Dan, and thank god for that. He couldn’t imagine having embarrassed himself in front of Phil so terribly if Pj hadn’t had talked him into giving up. 

The door to the small room swung open, their tour manager, Tristan, walking in and taking a seat in one of the plastic chairs. 

“So I just got you an interview with Interlude TV, you guys in?” He asked, giving them a bored look as if he already knew the answer to his question was that much of a no brainer. Against London were growing fast, but they still really needed the exposure, so taking interviews anywhere they could get them was first nature at this point. They'd even taken an interview with a porn site once a few years back. 

“Yeah, of course,” Phil answered for the group. “Right guys?”

The remaining three of them nodded, humming in response. 

“What time?” Asked Chris, the drummer tapping restlessly on the coffee table in front of him. It had barely been half an hour since they'd been on stage, the dying roar of their fans still buzzing outside their door, yet Chris was still as hyped as he’d been on stage, clearly more than ready to be immersed into another interview. 

“You have just over an hour,” responded Tristan after a quick glance down at his watch. “Be presentable and ready by ten thirty. There’ll be a live audience of some fans, so be prepared for that, too. And no swearing, okay? From what I’ve gathered, Interlude doesn’t tend to invite rude people back.”

Dan scoffed loudly. Yeah, like Pj and Phil would be able to keep their cussing mouths shut for an entire interview. No way. 

“What’s so funny, Danny?” Asked Phil after Tristan left the room again, shutting the door loudly behind him. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna be invited back,” Dan snickered, the other three joining in a few moments later. 

—

The interview was held on some sort of low stage, the four boys perched on obnoxiously tall chairs while their host, a perky red haired woman in her forties, sat beside them on the far left end. There was an audience of maybe fifty fans sat on ground level, looking up at the band and smiling giddily as if those four musicians were their entire universe and more. 

“Hey! So today I have with me this lovely band, Against London,” the interviewer announced cheerily to the camera before her, then turning to face the band. “Thank you for being here! How are you guys?” She asked politely. 

Dan wanted to laugh. All interviews started this way. They’d ask how they were and thank them for being there as if they really cared, and then they’d move straight on to trying to uncover drama and secrets all in order to gain views. It was stupid, really, but he knew that if they wanted to get anywhere musically then they’d need to keep attending these petty interviews, answering dumb questions and smiling politely at fame thirsty TV hosts. 

“We’re really good, thank you,” said Phil, his voice a bit raspier than usual from all the yelling he’d done earlier in the night. 

“That’s great!” Spoke Perky, enthusiasm oozing from her every pore. “So we actually have a game planned for you here tonight, does that sound okay?”

Phil chuckled, giving her and the audience that addictive smile of his. “Depends on the game.”

Perky laughed too, though Dan wasn’t sure if she really found Phil’s response funny or if she just wanted brownie points with the band. 

“Well I’m sure you’ve played it before with each other. It’s called truth or dare, only instead of with one another, your gonna play it with the audience!”

Oh no, Dan thought. Bad idea. When you’re in band of four fairly attractive, young guys and your core audience is made up mostly of nosy teenagers, live audience interaction isn’t always the best thing. He didn’t know when, but he was certain they were going to be forced to answer some terribly uncomfortable question tonight. Wonderful. 

The game began smoothly enough, the perky interviewer selecting members of the crowd whose hands were up, most of them asking questions about their new album or daring them to do funny things like stay quiet until their next turn, or throw them an extra pick, which Dan had to laugh about. 

All was going fairly innocently so far, and then it was time for Dan’s second turn. 

Perky pointed to a girl in the crowd who introduced herself as Mickey, with highlighter yellow hair and tattoos lining her arms. Dan waved and smiled at her brightly, just like he had the last time. 

“Truth or Dare?” She asked into the microphone that’d been handed to her by security.

Last time he’d gone with ‘truth’, answering a query about his illusive pet goldfish that he liked to showcase on is Instagram. He’d go for ‘truth’ again, but something in Mickey’s eyes told him that would be a bad idea. She seemed rather devious, from her cheekily narrowed eyes to her knowing smirk. She’d probably ask him something far too intrusive that he’d feel incredibly uncomfortable answering, so perhaps ‘Dare’ was the safer option. 

“Dare,” he answered slowly, laughing nervously as Mickey’s smirk grew. Okay, maybe picking ‘Dare’ had been a very, very bad idea. 

“I dare you to kiss Phil during the next show,” she spoke without any hesitation whatsoever. 

Dan’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging slightly open as he sat there, not knowing how to respond. Fuck, fuck, fuck! The audience was going to hate him if he said no, but Phil was going to hate him even more if he said yes. He was royally fucked either way. 

Lifting his microphone back to his lips, he tried to think of a response that wouldn't seem rude, but also wouldn’t force him into a situation that might ruin his and the guitarist’s easy friendship. 

Before he could vocalize his excuse, though, Phil was talking. 

“Well, a dare is a dare. Right Dan?” He asked nonchalantly, making Dan feel like he might actually choke on his own breath. 

Was Phil actually agreeing to this fan’s request? Was he seriously willing to make out with his band mate on stage in a few days? Dan sure wasn’t. He was too afraid that he’d actually like it, and then later on fall down that Phil induced spiral all over again. 

Dan giggled nervously, looking at Phil rather than the audience in an attempt to distract himself from their hungry stares, even though he knew that by giving the guitarist his attention he was only feeding into their fantasies. Dan had read the ‘phanfiction’ and seen the art too many times, and even though it was undeniable that their fans were incredibly talented, it still made him feel uncomfortable the next time he saw Phil. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he spoke, his voice small and unsure. 

And then Phil was laughing and proceeding with his turn like nothing had just happened, like he hadn’t just accepted a dare to kiss his bassist in front of hundreds of screaming fans. 

When the interview was over, the remaining questions and commands coming easy and effortless unlike the one that had made him so flustered, Dan was the first to head off the small stage and into the tour bus outside. 

Once inside the small sleeping area he collapsed tiredly onto the the first of the cramped bunks lining the walls, not really caring about who usually occupied it. God, what had that fan just gotten him into? 

Soon there was another set of footsteps nearing the curtained off sleeping section, and all Dan could hope for was that it wasn’t Phil. 

To his relief, Pj pushed past the curtain, stopping when he saw Dan sprawled out on the closest bottom bunk. 

“You okay?” He asked, sitting down on the small bed by Dan’s feet. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie– he really was exhausted. 

Pj shook his head. “No, I mean about that dare. Are you sure you’re okay with it? No one's gonna force you to actually go through with it.”

Dan swallowed thickly, closing his eyes for only a moment before giving the singer the most convincing look he could manage. “No, I promise, I’m fine. I’m over him,” he lied. “It won’t mean anything to me.”

Pj nodded, seeming to believe him, before nudging his leg off the bed. “Okay, well you’re in my bunk, and I’d really like to get some sleep.”

Dan laughed, pushing himself up and moving across the area to climb into his own top bunk. “Sorry, Peej. By the way, where are Chris and Phil?” He asked. 

Pj shrugged before pulling his blanket up further. “Dunno, probably drinking or something. Beats me.”

Nodding, Dan left the small bunk area, grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste before heading into the tiny washroom. As he leaned over the small sink, eyes trained on his own tired looking face, he wondered why Phil would ever even jokingly agree to kiss him. He wasn’t anything special, he wasn’t beautiful. 

Pushing those thoughts down he headed back to his bunk, saying a quick goodnight to Pj before trying to fall asleep, himself. Of course sleep didn’t come easily, but it did come eventually with the help of a younger and harsher version of Chantal Claret’s voice blasting through his headphones, singing and screaming about love and heartbreak until his brain was too fuzzy to comprehend her words any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading !! Come say hello on my tumblr (@ordanary) and give me feedback ? As always, kudos and comments are super appreciated <3 I hope you all have a lovely day !!


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